Allowing Assistance
by kheelwithit
Summary: Sinbad is a good king. The best that Ja'far has ever known of. Just, benevolent, wise. All backed by a kingdom that loves him. But even the king misses things. That's why he has a Prime Minister. That's why he has Ja'far.
1. Chapter 1

Allowing Assistance

Sinbad is a good king. The best that Ja'far has ever known of. Just, benevolent, wise. All backed by a kingdom that loves him. But even the king misses things. That's why he has a Prime Minister. That's why he has _Ja'far. _It's Ja'far's duty to pick up on these things that his King misses. And he does it well. He picks up the tiny things that add up into an issue that he promptly solves.

It takes him six months to notice that all 5 unmarried generals have not had one satisfactory sexual encounter. Not his best time, he thinks, but it is a rather large issue. Now it's his job to promptly solve it. It'll be awkward, but this is something that he need not bother his King over. Because he has Ja'far for things like this.

Another two weeks is how long it takes to decide how best to handle a situation like this. It's no easy task, telling your co-workers and friends that you'll assist them in achieving all of their most deviant desires without question if it makes working easier and he'll stop finding semen on reports. He eventually decides that copious amounts of alcohol, brutal honesty and solitude is the best idea. Now to choose the first vict- ahem, case.


	2. Spartos

**:: Spartos ::**

Spartos was his first. It isn't the easiest task that Ja'far's ever managed, but he's never been able to tell If it was because his few morals got in the way, or because Spartos just wasn't being cooperative. In fact, his lack of cooperation was what started this whole thing.

**::Day 1::**

Ja'far started the day the festival did. Filled as it was with song, drink, and women, he'd have a decent chance to pressure his coworker for a straight week. He'd taken special care to avoid nagging the other generals for encouraging Spartos opening up, talking to women, even looking them in the eye. He needs all the help he can get. This way, when Spartos makes his hasty exit, his eyes are already glazed over with lust, he already feels pressure and regret because he can't bring himself to do it and he's just the slightest bit tipsy. All product of Pisti, Sharrkan and Sin. He thinks it funny that they become most useful when he doesn't give them instructions.

"Spartos? Are you feeling yourself?" Spartos has escaped all the way back to the palace, sitting in an empty hall near the kitchens with his head in between his knees and his palms flat on the floor. Ja'far recognizes it as one of his self restraint exercises. He can hear breathing, deep and slow and controlled. Spartos isn't going to say a word until he's calm and in control. Ja'far can't wait for sits on next to Spartos, close enough to make the redhead's breath hitch and his palms press harder against the floor as he fights to even it out. Its not really working. His breath is more even, but it's also shorter. In a nutshell, he's hyperventilating. Perfect.

"It really is alright, you know. To touch yourself. You really aught to," He keeps his tone light, matter-of-fact in tone. A nigh inaudible whine lets Ja'far know they're getting somewhere. But for tonight, it's enough. Any more than this and Spartos is liable to be spooked. Ja'far sits with him till he calms down (and is pleased that it takes _much_ longer because of him. It's flattering and makes his job easier.) Spartos apologizes briefly, but sincerely, for the trouble. Ja'far smiles and nods, because everybody knows that that man can't _sleep _if he thinks he's not forgiven. Spartos does look visibly relieved when he walks off, silent as a ghost. Ja'far stays there with a feeling of guilt for a few minutes. Is pressuring _Spartos _really necessary? The one that would come the least willing... He consoles himself with the fact that should Spartos say no, it's no. Really, this sounds like a problem_ Sinbad_ should be having.

**::Day 2::**

Day two rolls around and Ja'far finds himself being incessantly pestered by maids that he just can't find the time for until his six meetings are done with.

"General! I know you think you're some kinda hot stuff, but _damnit_! This is _it_!"

"Talin, really, I am _sorry_, but I've had quite a bit to do, what is it that you need?" The brunette maid is no taller than Pisti and is approximately six years younger. It doesn't stop her from intimidating most of the staff. She yanks the hem of his robes down towards her and stands on tiptoe before whispering in his ear.

"Room 12 has uh... the person who has the room uh... a bit of a mess in the sheets. And it's not the first time, either. I-It's actually _quite _a bit... "

"Then tell them to stop eating in bed,"

_Whack_.

Talim has never been slow in resorting to violence. Ja'far's head now aches from the hit in addition to his earlier headache. _God _she's lucky she's a citizen of Sindria because Ja'far'd never stoop so low as to lay his hands on those he's meant to protect.

"That's not what I meant! You have a bi-g case of _wet dreams _up there, Mister Ja'far. And you need to take care of it! The maids don't like cleaning it up! That person could at least wipe it up!" She shoves a scroll into his robes.

"An' that's a petition of all the people who don't wanna clean it up either. And talk to the King about getting General Yamuraiha a laboratory of her own. She's burned clean fuckin' through three pairs of curtains," And then she lets go of him, straightens out his robes kindly, and threatens to kick him where it hurts, General or not, if he doesn't take care of this.

There are times when he and the rest of Sindria wonder if Talim is Sinbad's child.

She's certainly spunky enough.

He comes to see Spartos that night, whose still trapped himself inside during the festival. He doesn't bother him though, because Spartos is in position again- against the wall and tense as all get out and Ja'far feels like he's intruding something extraordinarily private because Spartos is _groaning _and struggling to stay still and in control. Yes. Spartos, he thinks, could use a break today.

**::Day 3::**

When he approaches Spartos the next time, he's got no qualms anymore. There's a way around it.

He sets his hand on the cloth of the redhead's shawl, pulls a scroll from his pocket and lets it unfurl.

"This is a list of complaints we've been getting from maids who continually find your sperm on their sheets,"

Spartos looks like he might pass out at any given moment.

"Don't worry. They don't know who you are, they haven't touched it, and they hold nothing against you,"

It doesn't change the fact that Spartos is hyperventilating again and really, it shouldn't be possible to be so ashamed.

"But you really do need to take care of it. If nothing changes, you'll begin to be a hindrance to your coworkers,"

Spartos drops down into a genuflectory bow so fast, Ja'far worries for his joints.

"I... I cannot find words enough to say-"

"It's fine Spartos. Just fix it," Ja'far runs his hands through that brilliant red hair and he can _feel _how Spartos looses his breath- a shiver, shudder and the tenseness leaves his body. And for now, that's enough pressuring. Ja'far turns to attend his own work. He's got to pick up for a lot of Sinbad's slacking.

**::Day 4::**

"Spartos? May I speak with you?" And because Spartos always has time for his friends, he drops the scroll of paperwork he's working on (and it doesn't escape Ja'far's notice that it's not got one single drop of ink on it.) and pushes his chair back to come out to the hallway where they can converse quietly.

"Ja'far-dono?"

"Have you taken care of your problem?" Damnit. Ja'far regrets his decision to be frank. This was Spartos. He should have had a bit more tact. He usually never makes these mistakes- maybe he should get some more sleep. Spartos' shoulder's have hunched up, his gaze is on a pillar behind Ja'far instead of him and his hands immediately clasp each other in a customary bow as he tries to edge back into the office inconspicuously.

"N-no, I sincerely apologize Ja'far-dono now if you'll kindlyallowmetogodothesepapersI'vegotto-" And then he's given up speaking like a civil person, opting instead to sprint back towards the office. Ja'far lets him time. That night, Spartos only spends a grand total of fifteen minutes at the party. And the short time he does, he's sitting in the corner and conversing vehemently with a boatload of transvestites. Ja'far has to admire him for finding his own way around the rules.

**::Day 5::**

The fifth day, Spartos doesn't even bother attending the festival. He feigns sick and holes himself up in his bedroom. An unsettling step backwards.

**::Day 6::**

Ja'far doesn't know what Spartos' been doing while feigning sick, but it certainly wasn't getting any _rest_. Else he wouldn't be sleeping soundly on his desk instead of completing a small pile of paperwork on day six of Ja'far's plan.

"Spartos?" He doesn't answer. Spartos sighs a little, squirms in his chair and his eyes flutter while his eyebrows furrow and his cheeks flush a delicate pink. Evidently, it's that sort of dream. Ja'far'd be better off doing this manually then, as opposed to whacking him upside the head with a scroll.

Or he could just let it play out.

He pulls up a chair from the side of the office and sits to wait. Usually, he wouldn't to something so indecent, but Spartos... is _attractive _right now. His hands clench against his robes and his face _screams _desperation as he squirms and writhes in his chair until he yelps and Ja'far has to rush to cover his mouth so nobody finds the poor man like this. Normal people would wake up afterwards. Not Spartos. He chooses to grip the front of Ja'far's robe as he pants and groans his release before going limp in Ja'far's arms. And then he tenses up again. Oh, he must be awake, then.

"You slept well?" Spartos scrambles back, tipping himself out of his chair and landing (painfully) on the ground in his panic. Ja'far takes a moment to admire the fact that his expression resembles that of a spooked horse with astounding accuracy. Ja'far cocks an eyebrow. Spartos looks at his pants. At Ja'far's wrinkled robes. Back to his pants.

"_Gaaaah_.." The little distressed wail is all Spartos can do, in exception to covering the front of his robes with his hand and flushing till his face matches his hair.

"Please refrain from panicking. It's just a little dream, nothing wrong with that," Spartos wails again and shirks from Ja'far when he steps closer.

"Can't we hold one discussion wherein you actually participate?" Spartos tries to assume his usual panic position. Tries. Ja'far can't have him clamming up this time.

"Did you know Sin has been considering putting you on suspension?" Spartos stops. Hyperventilation starts. Ah well. A little bluff hardly ever hurt anyone.

"It's imperative that this be fixed. It's getting in the way of your work. Please Spartos, allow me to assist,"

"I will.. I will fix this. My King worries for naught,"

And anyone who knows Spartos knows that's all Ja'far'll get out of him. Spartos curls up and Ja'far takes his paperwork and leaves.

"J-ja'far-dono!" He stops. Turns. Spartos is still on bended knee.

"Is there something wrong?"

"….I.. I can't..."

"You will. Tonight. After you've finished your paperwork. I expect you to be in front of my quarters promptly. Understood?"

He doesn't need to wait for a response. Spartos will obey.

|~_Allow me to assist.~| _

Ja'far is just wrapping up his own paperwork in what's left of the daylight comfortably reclined on his bed when the quietest little knock sounds against the door.

"The door is open, Spartos. Come in," Ja'far rolls up the proposal he was working on and carefully slides it into his nightstand with a dozen like it. The heavy double doors swing open only enough to admit Spartos' lithe form. Spartos drops to his knees again. Ja'far notes that he's come without all of his armor, headdress and needless wardrobe complications.

"Ja'far-dono,"

"Please, Spartos. We are only in each other's company; formality is unnecessary." Spartos rises, but his hands remain firmly clasped as a sign of respect.

"Will you sit with me?" Ja'far pats to a spot beside him on his overly large bed with a friendly smile. God knows Spartos needs it. Ja'far can pick up on the tremors in his hands. Spartos isn't moving any, so Ja'far does instead. He scoots over to the end of the bed where Spartos stands and gently swats his hands. Spartos stops clasping his hands, eyebrows furrowing as he tries to figure out what he could have possibly done wrong. Ja'far doesn't give him the time, grabs his hand and tugs him towards the bed.

Spartos jerks back like he's been scalded. Ja'far sighs and Spartos stands up taller and looks for all the world to be something terribly fierce.

"I offer my most sincere apologies, Ja'far-d- _Ja'far_, but I cannot and will not accept your offer of sexual intercourse,"

"Intercourse was not among my intentions, Spartos." Ja'far offers his hand again.

"If you would grant me your trust.."

"What are your intentions?"

"That's the trick of trust. You'd have to trust me even if I don't tell you." Ja'far runs a hand through his own hair and sits back on his knees. He feels a little guilty. To play on Spartos' need to trust his friends seems like he's treading the line of what's right and wrong a little too carelessly.

Spartos takes the proffered hand and there's no more time for guilt.

"Good, very much so," He allows himself to be pulled on the bed and sits awkwardly with his hands on his thighs. Ja'far hums his approval.

"You've never tried touching yourself?" He asks, just for confirmation while he runs his hands carefully up the inside of Spartos' thigh just the way he likes to when he takes the time to do this sort of thing. Spartos' breath hitches and he shakes his head no. His hands move, palms flat against the blankets.

"No, stop. Just let it- let it happen," Ja'far's hand creeps up even farther, running just his fingertips across the beginnings of his erection, mindful of the way Spartos focuses on it and even spreads his legs, bit by bit, to welcome it.

"I'll show you how, and you'll copy, alright?" Spartos nods dumbly, observing the way that Ja'far's other hand skillfully unbuttons his shirt and traces little patterns on pale skin.

"Off, please." Spartos obeys, his eyes train themselves on a tiny square of fabric on the blanket while he pulls his shirt off of his shoulders. Ja'far admires the way his well toned body flexes when it happens, but the way that Spartos bites his lip and moves his arms to cover as much as he can is a little upsetting.

"I- I can't do anymore.." And Ja'far prays that he's not about to push too far with Spartos, who is always so vague, when he scoots closer to him and places a hand on his chest.

"I can do it, should you let me," Spartos hesitantly, more awkwardly than anything, buries his face in his neck so that Ja'far can feel his breath while he mutters-

"Please Ja'far-dono, I can't let myself...be a liability anymore," Ja'far's heart breaks a little. And then he slides his hand down, to the button of Spartos' pants and undoes it quickly, murmuring tiny reassurances and thumbing the underside of Spartos' stiffening cock carefully. Spartos' hips surge towards him and hands on Ja'far's waist grip especially hard while the poor man cries out, panicked.

"Shh, It's quite alright, see?" Ja'far licks his palm, does it again. Spartos groans and almost squirms away and Ja'far can feel him growing harder in his hand.

"You're doing so well, just concentrate on this," Ja'far pumps his hand. Spartos bucks and Ja'far is reminded of his own cock pressing painfully against the front of his pants as teeth scrape his neck accidentally. Ja'far takes hold of Spartos' hand, pries it away from his hips and to join Ja'far's hand. Spartos stops and Ja'far knows that he's stalling out.

"Spartos, stay with me. You can do it, just like touching every other part of your body, okay?" Spartos nods again and Ja'far guides his hand further till Spartos takes himself in hand and lets out a breath that he's faintly surprised he'd been holding.

"Good. Copy-" But there's no need for anymore instructions. Spartos is doing plenty of exploring by himself; little sighs and panting groans that he smothers in Ja'far's pulse point show that he's doing pretty well for a first time.

Ja'far is struck, briefly, with a sensation akin to what one would feel should they see a newborn foal take its first wobbly steps.

And then it's gone and this goes back to being entirely erotic again because Spartos drags the hand on his hip up Ja'far's spine to get a better grip on something, _any _thing and Ja'far really cannot help the little hum that he makes when blunt nails drag against his back through the fabric of the shirt. He palms his cock through his pants half mindedly, more interested in the unsure, slow way that Spartos drags his thumb across the crown of his cock, smearing pearly beads of precum downward with the next stroke.

"Very good, Spartos, you're doing so well." Ja'far praises, and he means it, but is surprised because the shaky grip on his shoulder tightens and Spartos keens and it trails off into an almost sob.

So Spartos likes that sort of thing. Well then.

Ja'far obliges.

"Yes, marvelous. You're being so good for me, aren't you?" Ja'far moves to card through red hair and Spartos' lips trace out _God yes _against his neck. _Again_ follows and again, Ja'far obliges.

"I'm very proud of you, Spartos. Always so brave, obedient." Spartos' hand moves urgently between them, just a little further and Ja'far continues.

"Such a good boy."

Spartos comes, his teeth biting into Ja'far's shoulder to muffle the weak little choked moan that he makes and Ja'far holds him close while he shudders and gasps in the aftermath.

After a time, Spartos' body starts to tense up, before going limp again, like it was far too much work to do. It's still, quiet for a few moments.

"Thank you, Ja'far-do-"

"Now, now. What''ve I told you about that?"

Spartos curls in further to him.

"Thank you."

"I am always happy to assist."


End file.
